


Up In Smoke

by silentdescant



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Commitment, Five Plus One, Homophobia, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-11
Updated: 2011-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:30:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the <a href="http://glam-kink.livejournal.com/1444.html?thread=2104484#t2104484">prompt</a> on Glam_Kink: 5 times Brad almost walked out on Adam, and one time he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up In Smoke

1.

The dance floor’s dark and Brad isn’t sure of the guy’s name—maybe Mark or Matthew, something biblical, anyway—but he’s everything Adam isn’t and it’s so fucking refreshing. Tall, but thin and wiry, with a sharp nose and a pointed chin and glasses with rhinestones glued to the plastic frame, and dark, dark eyes. Brad holds on tight and rubs up against him and throws his head back and thinks seriously about whether he has a condom in his back pocket and then—

Then he sees Adam sitting at the bar with their friends, laughing and beautiful and Brad grinds his back teeth and pushes himself away from the pretty boy with the sparkling glasses.

 

2.

“Hey, baby,” Adam says when he comes into the apartment. He kisses Brad hello, steals a sip of his Diet Coke, and goes to sit on the couch while Brad finishes his project. It used to be a t-shirt, but it’s going to look so much better once Brad’s through with it.

“Want me to make you a sandwich or something?” Adam calls. “You hungry?”

“I’m fine.”

“I was thinking we could invite a few people over tonight, like a real housewarming, y’know? We never did that.”

“We’ve lived here for like a month.” Brad holds up the shirt and tucks his scissors under one arm. “And it’s not like we have the room for a party.”

“No, I know, just a couple people. Maybe Dani and Cass, I don’t know.” Adam wanders in again, hugs Brad from behind, and kisses the back of his neck. “Hey, baby.”

“What are you doing?” Brad asks. “That tickles.” He pulls the scissors out and snips off part of the hem. “And I’m holding sharp objects.”

“Missed you,” Adam tells him.

“You’ve been gone like three hours.”

Adam leans around and kisses Brad’s cheek. “I’m not allowed to miss you?”

Something about Adam’s question makes Brad uncomfortable and he isn’t sure what it is until he squirms out of Adam’s embrace. He didn’t miss Adam during the three hours Adam was gone. Adam shouldn’t miss him.

“I live here,” he says. “God, Adam, I _live here_ now. You see me all the fucking time.”

“I just wanted to—”

“Well don’t, okay?” Brad snaps. “My life doesn’t revolve around you; yours shouldn’t revolve around me either.”

Adam takes a step back. Brad stares at his mouth, at his tongue running over his teeth, and doesn’t meet Adam’s gaze. Finally, Adam says, “Okay,” and goes into the bedroom. Brad lets out a sigh of relief.

 

3.

It’s the first time in two years that Brad’s seen his family, and all he can think is _Thank God Adam didn’t come home with me_. It’s a selfish thought, he knows that, but he’s met Adam’s parents, he’s been to fucking Burning Man with Adam’s brother. He doesn’t want to subject Adam to this shit. It’s all he can do to suck it up and suffer through himself, and Adam’s not used to this. He doesn’t know how to handle it.

Adam would get indignant and protective and call everyone out on their shit, and Brad loves him for that, he really does, but… That’s not how this family works. That’s never going to be how it works, and in the time he’s been away from Texas, he’s learned to accept that. So he smiles and he ignores the comments he doesn’t like, and he makes nice with his parents in a way that Adam never has to with his family, and never should have to.

And when Brad has to go up to his childhood bedroom and slam his fist into a pillow, he’s glad Adam isn’t around to try and kiss it better, because he just can’t.

 

4.

Brad loves watching Adam perform. He loves performing with Adam even more, but those times are few and far between, lately. Adam’s moving up. He doesn’t think he is, but Brad sees it. He sees it in Adam’s audiences, and in Adam’s exhausted smile, and in Adam’s paychecks. He loves watching Adam perform, but sometimes he can’t help but imagine himself up there instead.

He wants to feel that rush of the spotlight, of the audience holding their breath to hear that last note, and he wants his name in lights on the marquee. He wants to be up there with Adam again, but more than that, he wants to _be_ Adam, and that realization makes him feel awful. The guilt and the shame roil in the pit of his stomach and he has to force a smile when Adam finds him after the show.

He told Adam, one night when they were first going out, “I wish I had your talent.”

Adam had replied with a smile, had said, “You do,” and Brad had kissed him. Brad isn’t falling for it anymore.

 

5.

It isn’t their first fight, not by a long shot, but it’s the first time Brad spends the night at a friend’s place instead of going home to sort it out. Adam doesn’t like going to bed angry, but right now, Brad doesn’t give a shit. He grabs Parker and drags him to the nearest bar and gets outrageously drunk, and Parker takes him back to his apartment and drops him onto the couch and Brad isn’t sure exactly how it progresses from that to making out on the floor, but the next morning they’re both naked and smelling of sex and Brad has a giant bruise on his hip.

Adam calls him. There are six other missed calls on his phone. Brad guesses Adam’s been calling him all night.

He pushes himself into a vaguely vertical position and looks down at Parker, whose face is smooth and blank in sleep. Then he looks at Adam’s name, blinking insistently on his phone.

“I’m sorry,” Adam says immediately when Brad answers the call.

“I’ll be home soon, okay?” Brad replies quietly. “We can talk about it then.”

 

1.

He’s folding socks. Brad is actually folding socks, because he’s turned into his mother and he can’t stand it when their shared sock drawer is a riot of mismatched socks and he likes being able to find a pair when he needs them. The utter domesticity of the task is almost more annoying than the folding itself.

He digs through the drawer and clears out one side and starts stacking the folded pairs neatly. Adam’s socks in one stack and his own in another, and he tosses the underwear that doesn’t belong in this drawer onto the bed.

And then he feels something hard underneath the pile of socks, stuffed into the back of the drawer at the bottom, and he pulls it out, and it’s a little box covered in deep blue velvet, and suddenly Brad can’t breathe. He pulls it out and opens it and stares at the simple, silver band inside and he still can’t fucking breathe.

And then he looks around the room, at the underwear on the bed and the socks on the floor and their necklaces all tangled together on the vanity and Adam’s pillowcases matched with Brad’s quilt and he’s _folding socks_ and Adam’s going to be home in a few hours and they’re going to have dinner and Adam’s hiding a ring in their dresser and Brad suddenly feels sick.

“I can’t do this,” he gasps into the empty bedroom. “I can’t do this.”

He drops the box back into the sock drawer, pockets his keys and his wallet, and leaves.

 

 _fin_.


End file.
